


Gather Round Like It's Our Last Day

by SomeoneAsGoodAsYou (the_wanlorn)



Series: Whumptober 2019 [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Chloe gets shot, F/M, Hands have been waved, Lucifer does not take it well, Lucifer's Back, Post-Season/Series 04, Things have been worked out, Whumptober 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-10-01
Packaged: 2020-11-09 00:38:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20844686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_wanlorn/pseuds/SomeoneAsGoodAsYou
Summary: Chloe gets shot. It's not the first time, but that doesn't mean Lucifer handles it gracefully.





	Gather Round Like It's Our Last Day

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome one and all to Whumptober 2019! Which I keep typoing as Humptober! hurr hurr hurr
> 
> This is for the prompt "Shaky Hands". It's unbeta'd. We die like fools.

His hands had been shaking.

That was what she remembered first as she clawed her way to groggy consciousness. His hands had been shaking and wet with something she would later realize was her blood. But as she tried to stay awake, failing by slow degrees, all she could think about was his shaking hand against her face.

* * *

The next time she managed to surface from unsettling dark dreams, she remembered that he had been begging, a litany of _not yet not yet please don't die don't leave me please please please_ that had lulled her into a drifting, half conscious state at the time. She wanted to reassure him, to tell him it was okay, she'd been shot before and she was going to be okay. But she couldn't seem to make her mouth work and then she was fading again.

* * *

When she managed to surface for real, to break through the sea of unconsciousness that had tried so very hard to drag her down into its depths, she remembered that he had been crying. Tears had dripped from his face to splatter against hers as he kept one hand on the wound and the other on her cheek, shaking. Begging. Crying.

She forced her eyes open, fully expecting Lucifer to be there at her side, waiting for her to wake up. For a second, she thought the blurry shape sitting next to the bed was him. But then, as her eyes focused, she realized it was just Dan. There was no one else in the room, and the steady beeping nearby started to speed up as she swept her bleary gaze around again.

"Trixie?" she croaked, making Dan jump.

"Shit, Chloe, hang on I'll get a nurse," he said, shooting out of the chair he had been slumped in.

She reached out, her arm weirdly heavy and the IV line pulling uncomfortably at her hand, and grabbed his arm with a weak grip. He pulled away but didn't leave the room, instead settling at the end of her bad and hitting the call button on the blocky nurse summoning device.

"Trixie," she said again, wishing Lucifer was there because she wouldn't have to ask for water if he was, he would just... be there, doing what she needed. Where was he?

"She's at my apartment with the babysitter," he said, one hand going to her leg. She twitched underneath it, but he didn't move. "I didn't think- It wasn't good, Chlo'."

She would take him to task for leaving Trixie alone with a babysitter when her mother had been _shot_ later. There wasn't anything she could do about it until she could get up and find her phone, and, given the way her eyelids kept sagging and the room kept going fuzzy, she didn't think it would be any time soon.

She swallowed convulsively before she could talk again, her mouth so dry her tongue was sticking everywhere. "Lucifer?"

Dan immediately started to look shifty, his eyes darting away from her. "You know, I'll just go get a nurse, it'll be way faster than-"

"Dan," she said, swallowing again, but there was nothing to swallow.

He sighed and, just as a nurse came bustling in and she was losing the war against her eyelids, said, "No one's seen him since you got shot."

Before she could demand anything—for someone to go look for him, to bring her a phone, to do _something_—her eyes slid shut and she was gone again, drowning in dark.

* * *

She woke up again. This time, Linda was in the room, with Charlie, Amenadiel nowhere to be seen. She vaguely thought that he had gone to the Silver City for a bit—under great protest—to take care of some business. What business angels had, she didn't know, but it must have been serious for him to be willing to leave them.

Lucifer still wasn't there, and she had to push down her feelings into a great well of hurt that she could board up for now.

"Chloe!" Linda said brightly when she noticed she was awake. "How are you feeling?"

Linda had already picked up a glass of water from the side table and was letting Chloe sip it slowly. Even the couple mouthfuls she managed had her feeling much better.

"Like I got shot and then fell off a building into a dumpster," she said, her voice still raspy with disuse. She wanted to ask how long she had been out but was afraid of the answer. Which would be worse: if Lucifer had given up on her, or if he had never cared to come by at all?

Linda's smile was forced as she said, "Well we're all glad you're-"

She put a hand over her mouth, her eyes glistening, like it had been more than a simple gunshot wound. Like that drowning feeling hadn't been part of her nightmares, had been her lungs filling with blood instead.

"I'm okay," Chloe said, reaching out a hand that shook with exhaustion, IV still pulling unpleasantly when she moved. Her chest felt tight and she winced when she twisted slightly, the pulling sensation not painful so much as unnerving. "I'm okay."

Linda took Chloe's hand, squeezing gently. Charlie wobbled up in her lap to pat her cheeks, making Chloe smile. She remembered those years, when Trixie was so small and it felt like Chloe's heart was stopping every time she managed to get to her feet and ended up on her butt a few seconds later.

After a long moment, Linda swiped at her eyes and said, "We're just all glad that you're okay."

Chloe hummed quietly in response, picking at the bedsheet. "Has- How's Lucifer? I haven't-"

She sighed heavily, shaking her head a little. She couldn't help but feel that he should _be there_ with her, even though she knew it was... He'd barely been back, and she didn't know how long she'd been out, which perhaps should be more important to her than where Lucifer was, but... Her head was just so damn fuzzy from whatever painkillers were in the IV. It was hard to focus on most anything, but he was a bright light in her thoughts, easy to find and easy to see.

Linda looked conflicted when Chloe looked up, and her heart fell through her stomach. What had happened while she was out?

"He's..." Linda paused, seeming to gather her thoughts while she gently disentangled Charlie's fingers from her hair. "He's not doing good, but that's really all I can say."

Chloe wanted to press for more information, wanted to press with a desire that was burning her from the inside out, but she restrained herself. It wasn't fair to ask Linda to break doctor-patient confidentiality.

"My phone," she said, suddenly realizing she had no idea if it had survived the fall. "Where's-"

"I don't know," Linda said, already rummaging through her bag, but if you need to, you can use mine." When she lifted her head, phone in hand, she was smiling conspiratorially at Chloe. "Maybe if he picks up..."

Chloe snatched up the phone, unsure if she wanted to call him to berate him or make sure he was still there or just to check on him and find out why he wasn't doing so good. Her heart was suddenly hammering in her chest, sending the heart rate monitor into a tizzy. It drew a nurse in, who called in a doctor, who started examining her and in the chaos, she lost track of Linda's phone.

By the time the doctor stopped listing off her injuries and why it was a bad idea to do anything stressful after having surgery to pull bullet fragments out of her lung, she was exhausted. It was starting to hurt to breathe and she just wanted to see Trixie and Lucifer. Instead, she dropped off into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Her head was clearer when she woke up again, this time to Trixie standing by the bed, pale and tearful. She could just see Dan in the doorway, talking to a doctor. Hopefully not about her.

"Hey monkey," she said and lifted her arm so Trixie could scramble up onto the bed and lay beside her. It jostled something in her chest painfully, but she managed to hide the wince as Trixie burrowed into her good side and began to sob.

"They said you were gonna die," she wailed between sobs, making Chloe's blood run cold.

"I'm not going to die. Who told you that?"

"I heard Daddy talking to someone on the phone," she said. "He said- He said-" and then she dissolved into incomprehensible crying.

"Oh baby," Chloe said, pulling her closer. "I'm okay; I'm going to be alright."

When she was actually okay, she was going to kick Dan's ass for letting Trixie overhear that.

By the time Trixie cried herself to sleep, Chloe was struggling to stay awake. She didn't want to be asleep if Trixie woke up again, but it seemed like she was out like a light and Chloe was just so tired...

* * *

Linda was back the next time Chloe opened her eyes, this time without Charlie. Instead, she was reading a book whose title Chloe couldn't see. It finally occurred to her that her friends must have someone sitting with her round the clock, and she could feel her eyes tearing up a little at that.

"Did you find my phone?" she asked, forcing the tears back.

"Busted," Linda said, putting down her book smoothly and pulling out her own phone instead. "You'll need to get a new one. But you can always use mine when I'm here."

"_Thank you_," Chloe breathed, reaching out for it.

The pain in her side as she did made her gasp, which was a mistake because it sent her into a coughing fit which was an even worse mistake. Linda had leaned across the bed and put the button for the painkillers in her hand. She pressed the button frantically, until it flooded her system with a cool wave and she could stop the coughing.

When she opened her tear-filled eyes, Linda was watching her worriedly, still standing by the bed, hand posed over the nurses' call button. Chloe shook her head and motioned for water, taking a long sip before telling her she was fine. It was only sort of a lie.

This time, when Linda handed over the phone, she put it in Chloe's hand so she didn't have to reach for it. Chloe just sat there for a minute, breathing, waiting for her nerves to calm down. She didn't want a doctor to come running because she was freaking out over calling Lucifer. She just needed to stay calm and everything would be fine. As she hit Lucifer's name in the contacts, Linda motioned that she was going to go outside and Chloe nodded. Privacy would be good for this.

It took two tries, but finally Lucifer answered with a sharp, "Doctor, I simply don't-"

"It's me," Chloe said thickly, her throat suddenly tight and her eyes prickling with held-back tears. She took a slow, quiet breath, reminding herself to stay calm.

There was a long silence before he said, his voice so very small, "Chloe?"

She swallowed, hard. "Yeah, it's me."

"I-" He broke off with a choked noise that sounded awful close to a sob. There was silence on his end for a minute before he finally said, his voice much calmer, "How are you?"

There were so many different ways she could answer that, chief of them being wondering where he was, least of them a simple "good." She decided to split the difference.

"Getting better. What-" she had to clear her throat as the words got stuck, and the words that finally came out were stilted. "How are you doing?"

"Don't worry about me, darling," he said. His voice was distant enough that her heart clenched with fear. "Just... focus on healing."

Then he hung up.

"...what the fuck," she whispered, staring at the phone.

Her eyes were filling with tears that she tried desperately to blink away. When she looked to Linda, who had come back in as Lucifer hung up, her eyes were so full of compassion tears started to fall. Chloe tried not to sob, knowing it would just make her chest hurt more, and she mostly succeeded.

"What the fuck," she said to Linda, her voice wobbling. She took as deep a breath as she could and blew it out slowly.

"Yeah," Linda said. "I've tried to tell him he needs to visit, but he's.... Taking this all badly." She got up and sat on the edge of the bed, one hand wrapping around Chloe's in a comforting grip. "Listen, don't think about him. You need to concentrate on healing so you can go kick his ass."

The laugh Chloe let out was watery and shallow, but it did as Linda intended and made her stop needing to cry so badly. She shook her head a little, the fuzziness at the edges of her vision had begun growing and she was feeling groggy, like her head was full of cotton.

"I think," she said, slightly embarrassed by how much her voice was shaking, "I need to sleep now."

"Okay," Linda said, moving back to the chair and picking up her book again. "I'll be here for another few hours."

"You don't have..." Chloe said, and drifted off before she could complete the sentence and tell Linda she didn't have to stay.

* * *

Healing was... a process. Lucifer did not come visit her once in the hospital. Every day that passed without him, her heart sank a little bit further and got a little bit harder. If he was going to break up with her—and she had always known this day would come—then the least he could do was say it to her face (or text her or _something_; she wasn't picky) instead of ghosting.

Ella, when she came bearing a giant bouquet of flowers, mentioned that no one had heard from him since the accident and she was kinda worried and could Chloe tell him that? Her face fell when Chloe said that she hadn't heard from him either.

"Okay, well," Ella said, brightening. "I'm sure you'll see him soon, so tell him we all miss him, okay?"

Chloe made a noncommittal noise and changed the subject.

She tried calling—of course she tried calling—but Lucifer never answered his phone, like he had a sixth sense that it was her. Until she was released from the hospital, though, that was the best she could do. So she waited and left short voicemails and refused to cry.

When they finally let her go home, her relief knew no bounds. She still didn't feel right and had so many breathing exercises to do and followup appointments, but sitting idle in a hospital bed was so much more boring than sitting idle at home.

The first thing she did was leave a message for Lucifer, one that she should have left earlier so she wasn't making a spectacle of herself. But, fogged up on heavy duty pain meds, leaving a voicemail every day had seemed like a good idea. Now, though, she was clearheaded and embarrassed at her desperation.

"Hey," she said, breathing out slowly and shakily. "I'll leave you alone after this, I just wanted you to know that I'm home from the hospital. I'll... see you around, maybe, I guess."

This time, when she hung up, she kept her new phone on her, checking it frequently to make sure it was still on and that Lucifer hadn't called. When night fell and she still hadn't heard from him, she finally started to cry.

There wasn't much she could do, though, not if he wanted to break up with her. She'd never try to hold him in a relationship he didn't want, not that she could even if she tried. By the time she fell asleep—glad Trixie was still with Dan for the next week—he still hadn't called, and she was done.

* * *

She wasn't done.

She wasn't going to let him just... fade out of her life like that, like some kind of ex she'd promised to stay friends with. If he was breaking up with her—if she was too much work or too mortal or _what_—he was going to have to tell her to her face.

She wasn't supposed to drive yet, but her post-op instructions said nothing about riding in cars. So even though Lucifer was probably still asleep after a night of partying at Lux, she called an Uber and directed them there. She had the elevator code he had gifted her with memorized, just in case, and a bottle of painkillers in her pocket. Also just in case.

It turned out to be a good thing she remembered the code, because the elevator, to her surprise, was locked. She wasn't sure if she'd ever seen it locked before.

On the ride up to the penthouse, she leaned against the back wall, absently rubbing a hand over her chest. It hurt more than it had when she woke up, and maybe she shouldn't've skipped her morning painkiller to go see Lucifer. Did he really deserve that?

No, but she deserved it. She deserved to know why he thought abandoning her while she was in the hospital was a good idea. She wanted him to say it to her face, that he didn't want her anymore. That she wasn't worth it, like so many seemed to think.

The penthouse was empty when the doors opened and the smell of whiskey hung heavy in the air. She wrinkled her nose and stepped out, trying to decide where to look for Lucifer first. If he wasn't there, she was going to wait in a damned chair until he came back.

"_Get out_," Lucifer yelled from somewhere deeper in the penthouse, his voice deep with anger.

She narrowed her eyes and said, "No," as she followed the sound instead.

"I said-" Lucifer started, coming around the corner, his eyes flashing in the early morning light, looking like he hadn't slept the entire time she was in the hospital. He stopped short when he saw her, his mouth working but no sounds coming out. He took a hesitant step toward her, arms twitching like he wanted to reach for her, then stopped. "What- I- Why are you here?"

"Because," she said, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that she hoped made her look mad instead of defensive, "I want you to tell me to my face that we're over instead of ghosting me like an asshole. And I want to know _why_."

He stumbled over half sentences as she breathed shallowly, wanting to sit down but not willing to show weakness in front of him. Wanting to cry but not willing to let the tears fall. Wanting _him_ but not willing to reach out.

"Why? I don't- How can you even look at me right now?"

She pointedly eyed him up and down, slowly, a parody of the way she was sure others checked him out. "You could do with a shower," she said, and he flinched.

"It isn't funny," he said. "You almost _died_ because I couldn't- I can't-"

She opened her mouth to reply but stopped, trying to take that in. "You-" she said and stopped again, this time really looking at him.

His eyes were red-rimmed, his usually tidy scruff was growing into a full beard, and there was a stain on the silk pajama bottoms he was wearing. He looked like he'd been crying, too, his eyes bloodshot and puffy. Or he could just be high.

"Not even you could have gotten there fast enough to jump in front of that bullet," she finally said, but he shook his head, making a sharp gesture.

"My wings, their feathers have healing properties." He looked like he was standing in front of a firing squad, and she understood. If he could have fixed her with a feather and he chose to let her almost drown in her own blood they were going to have words. But then he continued with, "But since I've been back, I- My wings- They-"

It took her a moment of shallow breathing to puzzle through that. "You have the bat wings again."

He grimaced but didn't deny it. If she could take a deep enough breath, she would have sighed. In relief or frustration, she wasn't sure. 

"So you don't want to break up with me," she asked, just to be sure, and he flinched again.

"I don't understand how you can stand to look at me," he said, his voice breaking, trailing her as she moved to sit carefully on the couch.

"Oh, believe me, it wasn't an easy decision," she muttered, relaxing backward with a grimace as her stitches pulled. The relief that flooded her was almost as good as a painkiller. Almost, but not quite.

He didn't sit until she held out a hand to him. When he slowly sank down onto it, it was on the very edge of the end, as far from her as he could get.

"Let me get this straight," she said, turning as much as she could so she was sort of facing him. "You decided that it would be best to not visit your girlfriend-" his eyes brightened slightly at that before they darkened in grief again "-while she was in the hospital because you couldn't fix her."

It wasn't really a question, but he looked like he wanted to answer it anyway. So she motioned for him to speak impatiently, and he took in a shaky breath, his fingers clenching the fabric of his pajama bottoms.

"You almost died," he said, swallowing hard. "You almost died and I couldn't do anything about it."

"So when I _didn't_ die you..."

"I-" At least he had the good sense to look ashamed. "How was I supposed to face you after that?"

"I don't know," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Maybe by coming to the hospital?"

But he just shook his head.

"Look-" she started, absently rubbing her chest again.

Lucifer's eyes zeroed in on her hand and she let it fall as he said, "Are you- Do you need a painkiller? I'm sure I have-"

"Don't tell me," she said, holding up a hand. "I'm fine for now, and I have painkillers in my pocket for when I leave."

His face fell at that, sinking deeper into misery. "I don't understand why you're here."

"Mostly to yell at you since you weren't answering my calls," she said.

"I was going to-"

"No you weren't," she snapped. "If you were then you would've called me back after the voicemail I left last night. But you didn't, and I'm having trouble reconciling that with someone who _doesn't_ want to break up with me."

"I don't! Of course I don't," he said, reaching for her before he seemed to realize what he was doing and snatched his hand back.

"C'mere," she said, patting the couch next to her even as she sagged with relief.

"I-" he said, and she glared at him.

"Come here," she said again, pointing to the spot next to her like he was a bad dog. It wasn't too off the mark, really. "This has been a very stressful couple weeks and my chest hurts. So would you just come here so I can sit with my boyfriend instead of feeling like I'm interrogating him?"

He slid down the couch and she positioned herself under his arm. He was trembling, a fine tremor going through him as she leaned against him. After a moment, he let his hand rest on her shoulder, and she couldn't help but smile a little.

She just sat with him for a long moment, soaking up his presence and letting it ease the phantom pain in her chest. It was too bad most of the pain—all too real—remained.

"Darling," he said quietly, breaking the easy silence. "I-"

He stopped short and swallowed, so she reached up and put her hand over his, sliding their fingers together as best she could.

"You're not... cross with me?" he finally continued, and she sighed—wincing when the breath she took was a shade too deep—and let go. He immediately removed his arm from around her shoulders and fisted his hands in his lap, looking for all the world like he was preparing for a blow.

"Oh, I'm mad at you alright, just not for the reason you seem to think."

She reached for one of his closest hand, pulling it into her lap and uncurling his fingers so she could slip hers between them. He stared at her and then at their intertwined hands and swallowed.

"Lucifer, you _left me there_. In the hospital. When I could have really used the support, you weren't there. Do you understand why that hurt?"

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, almost silent. "I'm so sorry. Can you-" He shook his head a little. "I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," she said slowly, deliberately. She pulled his arm around her shoulders again and leaned against his side as best she could. "Look, we're both going to mess this up. All we can do is forgive each other and make sure it doesn't happen again. So can we agree that radio silence for extended periods of time isn't okay?"

He nodded and his voice was thick when he said, "Yes, absolutely."

She blew out a breath and leaned further into his side. When he pressed a tentative kiss to her hair, she smiled and tilted her head up in clear invitation. What she didn't expect to see was him looking down at her, a worried furrow in his brow.

"What is it?" she asked, reaching up to trace the line it made.

"I- I don't know," he said. "I-"

His eyes were filling with tears and he was blinking hard, his eyelids fluttering as he tried to clear them. She reached up and wiped away the first tear that made it down his cheek, then the second, and the third, and then he had his face buried in her neck and his shoulders were shaking as he silently cried.

"Oh babe," she said, trying to twist around so she could hug him, but the motion pulled her stitches when she got too far and she had to satisfy herself with rubbing his back soothingly. "It's alright, I promise."

"I don't-" he took in a shuddering breath. "I don't know why- I'm sorry, I shouldn't be-"

His half sentences were broken up by shaky inhales. She could feel her own eyes filling as she realized just how damn close they'd come to never seeing each other again.

As she realized just how close she'd come to dying.

"It's alright," she whispered, trying to hush him without letting him know she was crying too. "We're okay."

"None of my brothers and sisters answered," he whispered and she bit her lip to hold in a sob at how broken his voice sounded. "I prayed for someone to- and no one-"

"It's alright," she said, her hand briefly curling into a fist on his back, interrupting the soothing strokes she was trying to use to calm him down. "I didn't need them. I'm okay."

"You almost _weren't_," he said, jerking back, away from her. She just moved her hands to his arms, rubbing his biceps slowly, willing him to take what comfort he needed from her touch.

"I know," she said.

Linda had even given her the number for a very good therapist to help deal with the trauma of nearly dying, but Chloe didn't think she was going to call. She hadn't known, after all, until the doctor told her. It was just like the last time she'd gotten shot, except recovery was going to take longer.

"I didn't know if-" he stopped to inhale deeply. "I couldn't face- I just couldn't."

"Listen to me," she said, holding his arms in a tight grip, fingers digging into the skin like she could press the seriousness of what she was about to say into his bones. "This wasn't your fault. None of it. Do you understand?"

"But-" he started, and she shook him a little.

"No. Not your fault. If I was going to blame any one of you, it would be Amenadiel for not answering your prayers, but I don't blame him either. It was the perp's fault and only his fault. I'm a cop. It's a dangerous job and sometimes, things like this happen. You can't-" She took a breath. Her eyes were filling with tears again, and he looked a little panicked. "You can't just decide to not deal with the shittier parts of dating someone who's a cop. Okay? If you can't deal with that, tell me now. So I can-"

"No," he said hoarsely. "No, I'll- I'll learn to- I can deal with it. Please, don't-"

She got to her knees on the couch and cut him off with a swift kiss before saying, "Can we just... Be okay now? Or at least talk about this later? I need to catch an uber home so I can take a painkiller."

"You could-" He cast his eyes down and away, before meeting her gaze again, looking determined. "You could stay here? I have-"

She slapped a hand over his mouth as she pulled out the prescription bottle and waggled it in front of him. "Don't tell me. I have some right here."

She could feel his lips quirking into a smile under her palm and started to grin back at him. They probably needed to talk more about when it was (never) and wasn't (always) okay to abandon your partner like he had. And about how his self-loathing had grown enough in Hell that the bat wings were back. And about so many other things.

But for now, she let him get her a glass of water, let him put something on the TV, and cuddled up against him when he hesitantly sat down close to her. He—and some painkillers—was all she needed in that moment. And, thankfully, he was finally there to provide.

The End


End file.
